


Sleepy cuddles confuse witchers

by lunaticsong



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, No Smut, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, cuddling for warmth, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaticsong/pseuds/lunaticsong
Summary: Jaskier shivers and Geralt offers his Witcher warmth.But the bard interpretes Geralt much farther than the Witcher had origially meant, and just cuddles the White Wolf, which leads to soft love confessions eventually.- He got quiet when he grew tired, and Geralt would have lied if he denied the warm affectionate feeling upon seeing his bard like this. Wild hair, exhausted after a long day, eyes shining and full of gratitude and trust, the voice silent and the cheeks blushed from the heat of the fire.It was a cherishable sight and the Witcher sometimes made them travel just an hour longer to get it, even though that was another thing he would deny until he died. -
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 212





	Sleepy cuddles confuse witchers

**Author's Note:**

> If you find some grammar or typo mistakes that bother you, tell me and I'm gonna fix it. I did my best but I only have two eyes :)

Jaskier had always been fast to be enchanted by the beauy in life. He admitted that, he knew his weakness to fall too easy for pretty humans, men and women alike, he chased after hearts and shiny jewelry and the last golden sunlight just to be allured and fascinated.   
An emerald green jacket, silver jarn woven inbetween the strands that made it glimmer in the moonlight, tiny little silver mirrorglass pieces that reflected every lightsource.   
That had been Jaskiers latest object of obsession and it was an understatement to say Geralt hated the jacket. 

He loathed it, wanted to rip it apart, burn it and throw the ashes in the next lake. It was impossible to be invisible or just remotedly inconspicuous in it. The godforsaken jacket was even louder than Jaskiers bright personality and it made the Witcher blind with silent rage. And with annoying light specks that constantly caught his eyes and irritated him. 

„Geralt, say: How is this?“ Jaskier turned again to highlight the horrible clothing item. „Isn't is amazing, if not astoundingly striking?“   
„It's a nightmare.“ Geralt answered, shortcut. Tiny pieces. He would rip it into very tiny pieces before lighting it on fire. 

Ignoring the bards pouty face, he started to pack his belongings into Roaches saddle bags. They had to leave before sundawn or they would have to pay for another night in the inn. Jaskier just returned from his little shopping tour with the jacket that currently brought Geralt very close to going crazy.   
„Well I for my part adore it, and I might never take it off again. I am sure the barmaid had an eye on me, by the way. Before the jacket, as well. Maybe we can shortly – Geralt? Geralt, hold on, just a second, I'll grab my lute and we will be good on our way –“, the bard chattered away as they got ready to leave. 

Only minutes later, they were on their way, passing the last houses of the village as the sun set slowly and the sky filled with dark clouds to hide a crescent moon. 

Jaskier's quiet humming accompanied them through the mountain pass and it was only as he stopped and Geralt heard his steps turn heavy, he let Roach stand still and decided to settle for the night. 

„Oh thank the gods, I think I never felt this tired, and it is very cold. Can we make a fire? I might very well lose my legs if I don't warm up, I am sure.“, the bard mumbled, every inch as dramatic as he was wide awake. Usually the Witcher would just have laid down and settled in the dark, but now his heart tightened almost unnoticeably and he fullfilled Jaskiers wish.   
Maybe it was just because he was a bit cold as well, he almost convinced himself, but Witchers had a slow pulse and hot blood, and he tried to betray his own senses in favour of Jaskiers comfort. 

Before questioning his actions further, he finished his task and laid down his bedroll, watching Jaskier do the same while undressing and laying his swords right next to him. The night had really become incredibly cold, and a shadow of worry passed his mind as he considered Jaskiers human body warmth and quickly retrieved a second blanket from the saddle to toss it to the other. Tiredly nodding, the bard sighed: „Thank you.“   
He got quiet when he grew tired, and Geralt would have lied if he denied the warm affectionate feeling upon seeing his bard like this. Wild hair, exhausted after a long day, eyes shining and full of gratitude and trust, the voice silent and the cheeks blushed from the heat of the fire.   
It was a cherishable sight and the Witcher sometimes made them travel just an hour longer to get it, even though that was another thing he would deny until he died. 

He smelled contentment and happiness from the bards sleepy silhouette against the moving flames. How a human could feel so calm and happy around him, BECAUSE of him, Geralt still didn't grasp it.   
But it was Jaskier. He always defeated expectations. 

He met the feared Witcher with boundless trust, had occasionally thrown himself into his arms when given the opportunity – caused by panic, when he run from some wild monster again towards Geralt, treated his embrace as the bards own personal save haven from all danger, ignoring that the Witcher himself meant danger as well. He hadn't been called a monster, a butcher, an animal for nothing, but Jaskier disregarded all human common sense when it came to self-preservation and caution concerning a particular Witcher. 

But sometimes Geralt was blessed with affectionate hugs not born out of fear and in the middle of a fight, but pure joy. Sometimes Jaskier got so unbelievably happy over something that he couldn't contain all of that bliss in his body anymore, and flung his arms around Geralts shoulders, sharing it freely with his brooding friend.   
And sometimes, this formed a small smile on Geralts face. Just sometimes. 

He would never dare to put it into words, the feeling that lingered in his chest in such moments, the golden light filling his soul when he was met with so much affection from his bard but he chased after it constantly. Falling asleep with the memories of Jaskiers smile, with his soft hair tickling his cheeks, the warm body pressed to his own on his mind.

But Witchers don't feel.   
Witchers do not feel.

So Geralt buried the memories in his head, deep down, and only let them resurface in the quiet moments where no one would distract him while he tried to remember the bards fingers dancing over his skin, holding him and giving him the attention that he desperatedly yearned for... 

Lost so deep in his thoughts, he startled when his surroundings came back in a shock. He had let down his guard too easily, had stopped paying attention and cursed himself for it. It was the dangerous combination of soft humming, Roaches quiet nickering and the dancing of bright flames that made him sink into daydreams. 

What had brought him back to the present was thankfully just Jaskiers shivering, no kikimora grabbbing the defenseless man for a snack.   
He looked over to him. Curled up under the blanket, in a miserable ball of cold limbs and chattering teeth, the bard tried to sleep. 

For a second, Geralt considered. Should he...?   
Would he cross a line? But a deep sigh from Jaskier stopped his hesitating. Quietly, he murmured: „Jaskier. Come here.“ 

The bard raised his head, and instantly knew what he meant. He bit his lower lip. „You don't have to...“   
„Yes, I do.“ 

Relieved, Jaskier stood up, huddled himself in his blanket and crossed the distance between them. Before Geralt could object, he had already laid down right next to him and rested his forehead against the witchers chest, breathing relaxed and almost melting into him as he felt his hot body.   
That...was not quite what Geralt had intended, but just as good. If not better. In the dark, nobody saw his smile, but perhaps the thinner man felt it because Geralt noticed his heart skip a beat. 

Peaceful, the two closed their eyes and it wasn't long until both were sleeping. 

The next day woke Geralt with golden sunlight caressing his face with warmth. Pink and blue hues filled the sky, and he felt more well rested than he normally did. In his arms the bard still slept soundly.   
He turned carefully slow to study Jaskiers silent face.   
Never before had he been able to be so close to Jaskier and simply look at him. Geralt discovered that he had very light freckles, speckled over his nose and high on his cheeks. 

Like small, golden constellations in the nightsky, he thought. His fingers longed to trace them but Geralt didn't wan't Jaskier to wake up just yet.   
The road they were travelling along wouldn't walk itself, but the Witcher felt so at ease that he couldn't bring himself to move. 

And Jaskier looked too cute to be woken up. Giving in to the desire to touch, he slung his left arm over Jaskiers waist and drew him closer to bury his face in the brown curls and rest for just a minute more. 

„Mhh...“. A small and happy hum. „Am I your personal pillow, my dear?“, Jaskier spoke muffled against his chest, sounding like he enjoyed being trapped in a Witchers embrace. His husky morning voice was something Geralt would pay fortunes to hear every single morning, especially that close but suddenly he became aware of what he was doing. 

He quickly withdrew his arms, distancing himself a little and kept to a short: „We have to get going.“ Then he rose, tried to ignore his heavy heart at the loss of Jaskiers lean body in his arms and started getting ready. 

There was silence, for a while, surprisingly much for the chatty bard. But after packing up and ten minutes on the road, he seemed to wake up properly, switching to his usual self.   
Geralt was thankful he didn't need to talk about that uncomfortably vulnerable position he got himself into when giving in to his desire to...cuddle Jaskier. 

It had been a bad idea. Who knew what the man might think now.   
But it had been nice. 

Somehow, it became a regular thing, cuddling to keep the very much human temperatured bard warm. 

The second time it happened, Jaskier had initiated it. In a windy october night, the warmth of the small fire instantly taken away by the dark shadows of the forest, he sat wrapped in two wool blankets, staring absentmindedly into the flames and readjusting every two minutes. After a while of shuffling and shivering, he looked up to him and asked quietly: „Geralt? Can I sit next to you? I'm cold and none of us wants me to freeze to death-“, he huffed with a crooked smile and added teasingly: „At least I sure hope that is not the case.“   
Geralt thought back to two weeks ago; the night they cuddled.   
He felt the knife of guilt stabbing him as he nodded and watched Jaskier rise and approach him, but it was too tempting to feel Jaskier so close again.   
While maintaining a blank face, his thoughts raced and tried to find a justification for his action – or rather, inaction.   
He should have protested, he should build a distance between them now, he -

Head leaned against his collar bones,   
pressed along his side,   
freely taking his arm and   
draping it around his shoulders,   
the smell of him everywhere,   
completely silencing every bad thought. 

Jaskier hadn't just sat down next to him, he had done the same as last time. Interpreting Geralt much farther than the Witcher had origially meant, and just cuddling the White Wolf. 

Something was wrong with this bard.   
No self preservation whatsoever, why was he so comfortable with a Witcher? 

„Thank you.“ Jaskier sighed happily, not catching the inner distress in the white haired man. 

Later, Geralt carefully moved his sleeping body to lay down, and after the short examination that now it was too late for guilty thoughts anyway, drew him in his arms, buried his nose in the dark curls again and enjoying to just listen and feel his bard breathing. 

It became quite regular. Always for seeking or spending warmth, never a topic in conversations.  
And maybe nothing would have ever changed if Geralt didn't wake up in the middle of a november night, and caught Jaskier. 

He surfaced slowly from dark dreams, and his conciousness felt like a scared bird; volatile, ready to flatter away any moment. After spending an eternity lost in shapeless thoughts, something got caught on the edge of them. Words. 

„I love you.“ 

It sounded so sad, so lightly said it was nothing more than a whisper.   
Geralt felt fingertips tracing patterns on his scarred skin. Even his sleep-clouded mind could identify Jaskiers voice easily.   
Jaskier, who softly whispered against his skin, assuming he was still asleep. Geralt slowly gained awareness of his body, one arm under the others head, the other draped over his waist, holding Jaskier close. Their legs tangled, Jaskiers left one pushed between Geralts so they touched from head to toe. Every breath transferred to the other man's chest immediatly. 

„I love you.“, he whispered, then let out a sad sigh.

And suddenly Geralt was fully awake. 'I love you', he had said. I love you. His bottled up feelings rushed over him and he couldn't even try to deny that it was love he felt for Jaskier. 

He deeply loved the bard. His voice, his silly dancing, his endless chattering, the way he could move his hips when he had been drinking one too much. He loved Jaskiers dramatic way of telling stories, the way he was so different and special compared to other humans.   
The way he loved Geralt.   
The Witchers heart beat faster and he felt like he had been pushed into ice cold water. This realisation had crashed over him like a wave. 

Suddenly a restlessness clawed at him, he had to tell Jaskier; now! 

The bard startled with a scared noise as Geralt used the arm around his waist to turn them around and shift himself upright.   
„Geralt? What- you are awake? Did-“, Jaskier managed to stutter before Geralt grabbed his wrist and brought it to his chest. 

He hadn't thought far ahead and the words choked in his throat. He couldn't. But Jaskier needed to know his feelings.   
He loved him. 

His golden gaze caught his eyes. He lowered his head and let their foreheads touch. Softly, almost scared to make Jaskier flee, he whispered: „Jaskier...“   
His eyes flicked from Geralt's eyes to his hand, holding the other mans to his chest, and then to his lips and back to his eyes. He saw the desperate longing in them.   
„I know you aren't good with your words, but I don't know what you want to tell me. Give me a sign. Please.“, he breathed. 

Geralt tensed his jaw, closed his eyes and then let his guards and guidelines fall in mere seconds. 

With infinite gentleness, he kissed Jaskier.   
Sighed relieved against his lips when he felt the man lean closer to him and reply. 

The bard moved his hands and buried them in the white waterfall framing the Witchers face and covering his shoulders. He tugged at some strands and lead Geralt to deepen the kiss. 

Rough, careful hands sneaked under the blanket that slid half over Jaskier's body. He felt him pressing into the touch and smile into his mouth. 

„Geralt- Geralt hold on a moment, did you-“, they parted and Jaskier looked at him. „Did you hear what I said?“ 

„Yes.“ His deep voice made the lean man shiver. But he still looked expectantly at Geralt. Biting his red lip, he continued: „I heard you. And I-“ He stocked, turned his head away so he didn't feel as confronted by Jaskier as he was, and murmured in a lower voice: „I feel the same way.“ 

He might as well have announced to buy the bard five new doublets, all embroidered with the finest gems and gold thread. Jaskier looked like the sun, grabbed both his hands and imitated Geralts gesture from before, bringing their foreheads together. 

„Thank you. I love you, Witcher.“ 

The next days, one thought would accompany the Witcher. Was this the road to happiness? He was pretty sure it was.


End file.
